


Upon Matters of Digestion

by elistaire



Category: Queen of Swords
Genre: F/M, Gen, Humor, Octopus, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-04
Updated: 2011-04-04
Packaged: 2017-10-17 13:52:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/177527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elistaire/pseuds/elistaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. Helm and Marta go for a picnic in a rowboat, but something is lurking below the dark water.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Upon Matters of Digestion

"This is very nice," Marta said and trailed a hand through the cool water. She shook the droplets off, smiled at her companion, and reached for another wedge of cheese.

Robert Helm smiled back at her, practically beaming at the praise. "I thought we might enjoy some quiet time together." He fiddled with some grapes in his hand, rolling them around his palm thoughtfully. "Every time I have ever tried to speak with you at length, some thing always manages to come up. Your Mistress has emergencies on the hour, you know."

Marta laughed. "And the Colonel requires your services on the half hour." She was rewarded with Robert laughing along with her.

"We will have to remember to do this again, then," he said, popping a grape into his mouth. "Out here, they can't quite reach us."

Marta nodded and relaxed back into the prow of the little rowing boat they had borrowed. Robert had suggested this little getaway a few days ago--who knew he was so cleverly romantic? But it had taken those few days to finally find a moment to steal away. Marta had packed a picnic dinner and Robert had brought the wine, and they'd rowed out a short distance from the shore and thrown out the anchor. Now they bobbed on the rolling waves, the water dark below them and the sky blue with bright white clouds above them.

With a sigh, Marta put the wedge of cheese down, untasted. "It is all very good, however I am completely full. But I don't want to go back yet."

"Then we won't," Robert declared. "There's still more wine to share." He pulled on the chain on the side of the boat, where the wine was resting in the cold ocean water. "And fish to feed for entertainment. Watch." He took some of the hardest crust from the bread that remained and crumpled it into the water. A moment later, small dark and brightly colored fish came to the surface, their small fish mouths working to gobble down the crumbs.

"Oh, they're sweet," Marta said. "Too bad they are not any bigger; we could catch them for later."

"We could," Robert agreed. "But it's more fun just to watch. Look, more are coming." He sprinkled even more crumbs and more small fish appeared from seemingly nowhere.

Marta eyed the remainder of the picnic basket. What else could be thrown in to lure more fish?

~~~

"I can't find him."

Colonel Montoya looked less than pleased at the statement. "Then look again!" He winced with the forceful exertion. A hand went to his belly. "A doctor should be available at all times to assist the leader of this pueblo." He threw a ledger at Grisham. "Get going! Don't come back without him!"

"Yes, sir!" Grisham ducked the ledger, did a snappy salute, and left the room as quickly as his feet could take him. Damned Colonel. Ever since the fever had taken the town a while back, he called for the Doctor at his slightest ache or pain. Grisham had learned a while ago to avoid the flan from Senora Herrera; it was a pity that Montoya had not yet learned that lesson.

Grisham spent another ten minutes fruitlessly searching for the missing Doctor before he finally learned where he was. One of the small children had piped up as he'd questioned his mother. "He took Senorita Alvarado's gypsy to the beach for kissing," the brat had said before hiding in his mother's skirts.

Grisham had tipped his hat and gone for his horse.

Now he was riding along the high edge of the cliff looking down at the beach. Sure he knew the general location, but damn, it was a very long beach! They could be anywhere. Frustrated, he looked momentarily to the sea. Hell and damnation, there they were, in a rickety old wooden boat, sitting on the waves as pretty as you pleased. Now how was he supposed to get them back to shore so he could drag Helm's worthless behind back to Montoya?

He scowled.

What was that large, dark shadow underneath them?

~~~

"The fish are gone," Marta said and frowned. Crumbs still lay on the surface of the water, but suddenly all the fish had turned and flashed away as if with one mind. She rubbed her arms, suddenly chilled. "Let's go back. We should go back." She looked at the sky, but it was still blue with harmless, scudding clouds. It was not the sky that had set her senses ringing of danger.

Robert looked concerned, but began to do as she asked. "Of course. Are you unwell?" His hands went to the rope of the anchor.

"No," she replied, and looked around again. Everything seemed fine, but there was something wrong. Perhaps Tessa required her assistance? "This was wonderful, but I think we should go now. It is getting late and…something isn't right." She watched Robert's reaction. She normally did not reveal her different abilities, it made others fear and despise her; Robert was a man of science, and likely to shrug off her premonitions. But he just nodded and set to pull in the anchor.

"As you wish," he said and tugged. He grunted, frowned at the line, and attempted it again. "There's something wrong--" The rope came loose in his hands and he fell over in the boat. He scrambled to his knees and pulled the rest of the line in until they could both see that the anchor was missing and all that remained was a slightly frayed end. "Well, that takes care of that. To the oars." He sat down and grabbed the wooden handles.

Which was when the little boat seemed to heave straight into the sky and Marta was flung from her seat and into the sea.

~~~

Grisham wheeled his horse around and headed for the closest path down the embankment. Holy Hell! His heart raced in time with the pounding hoof-beats and his mouth was dry. He had to get closer if he had any shot at all.

Waiting those precious moments for the horse to carry him closer, he could see that chaos had broken loose in the water. The boat had been flung into the air on a wave of dark, mottled flesh, and the occupants had been dashed into the water. Except that they hadn't resurfaced so much as been brought up again by…something. A monster.

One long, slick-looking appendage was curled around the gypsy, and Grisham could see Helm clinging close-by, beating on it with his fists.

Finally he was at the edge where land and water met, and he leapt from the horse, gun raised. He wasn't even sure shooting the thing would help any, but he had to try. Montoya would skin him alive if he had to look for another doctor.

He fired, and his sight was true. The monster released the gypsy; she and Helm made for the shore. They seemed to be in water barely over their heads, as they appeared and vanished as the waves rolled in.

Grisham had grabbed the musket from the saddle. He was less accurate with this weapon, but the monster was so large, he didn't think he'd need worry about missing. As Helm and the gypsy--he searched his mind, he was pretty sure her name might be Marta--made their way in, he waited for the monster to move again. Which it did. Breaking the surface, one of its long, slimy, and boneless arms reached out towards its prey….

Grisham fired and the sea monster recoiled from the injury, sliding back under the water. He put the musket back and pulled out his last loaded firearm, his smallest pistol, leveling it again at the sea.

Helm and Marta dragged themselves through the surf, breathless and dripping, but they were not attacked again. Grisham kept his eyes on the water until the two of them were panting next to him. Only then did he put his gun away.

"Thank you, Captain!" Marta was so grateful she flung herself at him. "You saved our lives!"

Grisham could have done with a little less gratitude as he was squished into a salty, wet embrace. He pushed her off with one hand. "All in the line of duty. Really."

"Hell, man, you saw that, right?" Helm was waving his arms around, excited, pointing out to sea. "I think it was a devilfish! I'd heard of them, but--to see one!"

"Yeah," Grisham pointed out, "and you were almost eaten by one, too." He grabbed the reigns of the horse he'd come on and turned to look at the bedraggled pair. Behind them, the wooden boat bumped at the shore, miraculously upright, and with a picnic basket still in its depths. "You," he pointed at Marta, "take care of that boat."

She turned to look at the boat and then back at him, opening her mouth to speak, but he beat her to the punch and pointed at Helm. "You," Grisham said," come with me."

"But, that," Helm sputtered, flailing his arms at the ocean, "what about that?" while Marta was exclaiming the same sort of thing.

"Yeah," Grisham said, "that was big and scary and all, but it's gone now, and Montoya still has a stomach ache."

Marta and Helm stared at him for a moment, mouths open.

Then Helm nodded. "Right. I see your point. Let's go see the Colonel."


End file.
